Date: Mon, 30 Oct 2000 06:38:46 EST
From: Ritch Christopher
Subject: GayMale/HighSchool/that-was-then-10
If you're beginning to read part 10, without having read any of parts 1-9,
you will lost. If you've read this far, my thanks. It is with the
encouragement from the barrage of e-mail I've received, that I'll strive to
relate more of Mark's adventures from high school, leading up to his reunion
with his high school lover, Lance, which took place five years later. This,
the past six parts, and the future ones are the events that took place
during that five year interim. You already know that this is a work of
fiction, based loosely on fantasized truths, all rights reserved. This, as
the others, and the ones to follow contain explicit language and graphic
descriptions of gay male sex. If you are underage and/or are offended by
these, please exit now and e-mail me and I will direct you to Mr.Rogers'
site, which I occasionally enjoy, myself.
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that-was-then-10: CALIFORNIA:
I was scared shitless. I had $300.00 in my pockets. My car was on its last
legs, but by God, I was headed for California.
When the radiator "blew up", it was obvious I didn't know jack-shit about a
car. My mechanical knowledge had increased, however, I, now, knew where the
cigarette lighter was, as I had begun to smoke. I still didn't drink, but I
had to show my manly side somehow...I would be a Marlboro man. (Ever
wondered why so many gays, smoke Marlboros?)
I laughed when I bought my first pack at the cigarette stand. I looked at
the brands and most attractive was one called "Vogue", twenty cigarettes in
different pastel shaded papers and a gold filter...they even came in a black
box. They certainly looked less lethal, but NO, I could hear the Elmer
Bernstein jingle (so reminiscient of the "Bonanza" theme) in my mind as I
lit my first one. "Da...da,da..da,da".
I'd heard the song about route 66, but I wanted to take the southern route
across Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. I had had one frat brother to tell
me. When you're travelling through there, only drive in the daylight and
check in a motel until morning, He said at night, the "wetbacks" would swim
the Rio Grande, flag down my car and rob me. What the fuck were "wetbacks"?
I'd heard of full-backs, half-backs, quarter-backs, even green-backs...but I
was too embarrassed to show my stupidity about not knowing about "wetbacks".
I would laugh at this a couple of years later, when I joined my black
friends at the Woolworth's counter during a "sit-in". They even turned the
firehoses on us to keep integration out of the south...oh well, that's
later... meanwhile...
I made it over the Mississippi River to TexArkana, down to Paris, Texas. It
was getting dark, time to stop for the night. The next day my destination
was to reach San Angelo. Everything was still on schedule. The next day I
would finally get out of Texas into New Mexico.
There was a huge semi, in front of me, making one hell of a clanking
sound. I thought this noise would drive me berserk unless I sped up and
passed it. I was about 100 feet in front of the big rig now, when I
realized, it was not the truck, the noise was coming from, but beneath MY
hood. I saw a sign saying, "Las Cruces. N.M. 3 Miles". I made it and pulled
into a service station. The attendant spoke no English, nor did his buddy,
or HIS buddy. I knew one phrase of Espanol, and that was "Chili Con Carne",
but I somehow didn't think that would help my situation. I raised the hood
and pointed saying, "El broko...el fixo". A man, whom I hadn't noticed was
leaning up against a wall and broke into hysterical laughter. When I saw he
was laughing at my futility, I broke into laughter too.
"Let me help.", he offered.
"Thanks".
Four hours later when the had "catscanned" my Mustang. I was told, through
translation, that my six rocker-arms were broken. Well, I knew THAT, with my
vast knowledge of Ford wizardry. Who the fuck would name a car part "rocker
arms?....Better yet, what the fuck were they?? I was told they could replace
them, but they didn't have the parts. They would have to send to El Paso for
them and it would take about five days. FIVE DAYS!! Shit, I could walk to El
Paso and get them by then.
Five days, or nothing! Where's the nearest motel. Did they even have a motel
in this town. Knowing that my money was tight, I had to choose something
that looked cheap. Norman Bates would have been afraid to stay at the one I
had to settle on. It had a wooden roof that stretched over to cover the
wooden-planked walkway that led around to all nine units. What number had
Janet Leigh stayed in? I didn't want that one.
Eight bucks a night...no hot water, no air conditioner, but I had a little
revolving fan. What luxury! I was frightened out of my mind, so I made a
plan to sleep during the day and stay awake all night for safety.
The second night, when I was on "watch", I heard the sound of
"clop...clop...clop"...FOOTSTEPS on the walkway. They had stopped just
outside my door. The lights were off and I peeked through the floral
curtain, which I'm sure were former feed or flour sacks, and saw a "cowboy"
in a black hat. He had sat down on the walkway, leaning his back to the
wooden 4 x 4 post. and was opening a pocket knife, with a long shiny blade.
There were no lights, but the moon was full and bright enough to see across
the whole courtyard. He began to clean his fingernails the blade's tip.
Well, I'll probably be dead in about 30 minutes...how do I want to spend my
last half hour on earth? My heart was pounding...my chest was rising as if I
had just run the 880.
There was no one to call or no one to cry for help to. I knew in my mind I
was to be his next "victim", so maybe I could talk him out of it. So, like a
fool, I opened the door and slowly walked onto the porch.
"Nice night", I stammered, trying to get a glimpse of my assassin.
"Yep."
"Are you a guest, here?"
"Nope."
At least he spoke English..."Yep and nope", says alot.
Now I could see him more clearly. He was thin, long legged, young, around
21 or 22, sallow faced, but good-looking in a western sort of way. He had a
black cowboy hat and a bandana tied loosely around his neck. My first
impression was, "It's Lash LaRue."
Now I got up my courage, a bit, "Is there any reason why you stopped
outside my door?"
"Nope."
He must've thought he was fucking Gary Cooper, with his gift of gab.
Finally, a full sentence came forth. "I like to walk at night. It's
peaceful, quiet. I like to "think". I like to come here to this old motel
because is reminds me of the towns in old black and white westerns."
"You like movies?", I asked, more comfortably.
"I love 'em. It's my escape hatch out of this town. If it weren't for them,
sometimes, I think I would go crazy."
"What cowboy stars to you like?"
"My favorite is Charles Starrett, the Durango Kid."
"You're kidding, he's my favorite, too."
"And the obvious, Roy, Gene, Tex,..Rex Allen, Rocky Lane, Whip Wilson, and
Lash LaRue." (I knew it,)
"How about cowgirls?", I pressed.
"Don't much look at them except maybe, Dale, and Jane Frazee... I like
cowBOYS."...Was he trying to make a point?
And then he surprised me by asking, "How are they comin' along, fixin' your
car?"
"You know about my car?"
"Yeah, I was at the station gettin' a Coke, when you drove in, the other
day."
"Well, I guess I have three more days, here, in paradise."
"You hungry?", he asked changing the subject. "There's a little all night
diner open just over those two hills.". his head pointing down the highway,
A diner...with people...safety in numbers...
"Yeah, I could eat a bite."
"Come on, lock up your door and let's walk."
Just over the hill, an honest-to-God neon light spelling, "R B Y 'S".
"And only "U" are missing," I thought, before he could crack his joke.
Damn, you could order a 16 oz. steak with all the trimmings for $3.00. Beef
must be cheap out west.
In the light, my young bandito was better looking than I had first seen. He
was bordering on handsome. He looked like a western bit player named Skip
Homeier, sandy haired and blue eyed. There was a "little boy" quality about
him, as if he had dressed up to play cowboys and Indians.
"I heard you tell the guy at the station, you were on your way from
California, and I seen your license plates said you was from Georgia."
"Very observant, you ought to be in the Texas Rangers," I joked.
"Naw, don't like real guns...just play guns."
"Were you serious about wanting to become a cowboy movie star?"
"That's all I ever wanted, since I was a kid." He didn't seem much older
than that now.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot".
"Have you been following me?"
"Nope, but I knew where you was. I seen you check in the motel. You was up,
all last night, but you didn't see me."
Puzzled, I asked, "Did you want something from me?"
"Nope, I knew you had five days to spend here and I thought you might want
some company."
"That's nice of you. I haven't talked to anyone in several days."
"Where ya headed in California?"
"Monterey eventually, but I'm gonna first stop in L.A."
"Hollywood?"
I laughed, "Maybe."
"I've always wanted to go to Hollywood, walk down the street and get
'discovered'."
"What's stopping you?"
"Drive...gumption."
"You got any money saved?"
"'bout a thousand dollars."
I don't know why I asked this of my presumed killer, but, "Ready to make
your move?...I mean, would you like to ride with me as far as Hollywood?"
"I guess that's why I been followin' you...I could help, payin' for gas."
(That's what I had been thinking.)
"I know you told me your name, but what do your friends call you?"
"Skip.", That was too much of a coincidence.
"Well, Skip, if the car's ready, we'll pull out of here Tuesday morning."
"Want me to walk you back to the motel."
"Great".
We got to the Bates, euphemism, and I stopped at my door. "It's almost 3:30
AM, wanna come in for a while? It's hotter 'n hell in there, but we could
talk and get to know each other, better."
"We could sit out here on the veranda."
"O.K."
We sat down, side by side, on the wooden planks, shoes planted in the sand,
moon full overhead, and my right thigh was pressing into his left as we sat.
"Sorry," I said, moving my leg.
" 's O.K., Leave it there. Felt kinda good."
Where was he headed? I thought I knew, but did I want to encourage it?...I
did...So I moved my leg closer to his, this time, enough so that our knees
and calves were touching.
"That's better, " he said slapping my right knee with his left
hand...except he kept his hand there, squeezing my kneecap.
"Does this bother you?". he asked.
"No, not particularly."
"How about this?", as he started running his hand up my thigh.
"No."
"Or this...?", his hand hit paydirt when he clutched my crotch,
In the moonlight, I looked up and saw him staring directly in my eyes,
waiting for the green light to proceed with caution.
"Feels like, you're gittin' excited. Does this get you excited?"
"You be the judge."
"It sure excites me..." He grabbed my right hand and placed it on his jean
fly..."Feel?".
I felt a tremendously throbbing bulge beneath my grasp...like a mustang
trying to break out of a corral. Like a conducted duet, we unzipped each
others pants at the same time, and unbuttoned the top button. In harmony,
two cocks smothered in white cotton briefs were trying to spring forth. We
jostled and tossled until those young colts were free from materials, and we
each placed our hands on the climbing shafts.
"Oh God,", he moaned. "I was hopin' you'd let me do this...since the first
time I seen you,"
He didn't wait for an invitation, he leapt forward and put my awaiting
member in his mouth and began a push-pull movement with his head,,,He was
right...He had wanted this...and who was I to turn down my first Western
blow-job? He licked my balls and sucked his finger, just long enough to
lubricate it, to explore for my ass opening... He found it and inserted it,
slowly, one knuckle at a time, until it reached its final destination, and
my prostate was getting a twenty-five dollar massage...from inside.
He was building up my load. I knew I would probably blow his head off with
my eruption which was only seconds away.
"You'd better stop, unless you like Georgia nectar."
"Give it to me. Give it all to me."
How could I refuse?. With my now, fully-loaded, six gun, I shot, aiming at
the back of his throat. He swallowed at the same tempo I spurted. I was
finished, but he still wanted more.
"Wait, wait, there's more where that came from, but just let me rest a
minute", I said, almost in a plea.
I pulled his head from my lap and moved toward mine. Wanting to thank him,
I leaned forward to kiss him. He pulled back.
"Hey, man, I ain't never kissed a guy, before."
"Good, at least there's something I can teach you."
Once again, I pulled his head to me, and kissed him. This time, he didn't
resist. He exhaled through his nostrils and he opened his mouth to welcome
my tongue. His saliva was still mixed with my hot semen, as I tried to get
him to snowball me. He really "got into it", and began responding in a long
passionate lip lock. He wanted to search the inside of my mouth with his
tongue. He may have been new at this, but he surely learned rapidly. When,
he broke free, long enough to get a breath, he exclaimed,"Goddamn! That was
like movie kissin'" (Just try to keep a straight face after that remark.)
I looked at him with a big smile instead, and said, "Let me get you off."
"Naw, before you do that, I want you to fuck me with that thing of yours."
A southern gentleman never refuses a polite invitation.
We didn't bother to step out of our trousers, we left them at our ankles and
walked into the motel room.
"It's hot. Let's git necked!"...Off came the clothes. These were pre-AIDS
days, so there was no reason to worry with a condom. He moved backward and
lay back on the bed with a thud, He raised both legs in the air and spread
them.
"Fuck me!...Fuck me, Mark. Ride me like a bronco!!"
Somewhere, between horniness and hilarity, I moved between his legs...and
spit a wad between his ass cheeks and lubed him. He cock was still standing
at attention, as my own cockhead began to enter this specimen of prime beef.
The deeper I descended, the louder his groan of delight. When I was almost
inside, he lowered his legs a little and pushed his body toward my hips,
making me hit "home." With a determined motion of my body, I began to rock
forward and back, each time increasing the speed and the force that I was
driving. He was pushing and withdrawing in the same rhythm, his right hand
pumping his own prick with each pounce. I wanted him to have the "full
treatment", so as I fucked, I leaned forward to kiss him, at the same
time...to show him the difference between having sex and making love. While
I was engaging in a deep kiss, without a warning, he moaned a little and
shot a white stream, all over his belly, saturating mine, in the process.
Not wantint to prolong this agony/ecstasy I decided to cum, too...filling
his insides with my milky syrup. His rectum opening squeezed my cock, making
sure, I had nothing more to give him.
In the heat, I sorta collapsed on top of his body in a heap. I was worn
out.
"Whew, that was somethin'...really somethin...Guess I'll have your baby,
now."
We both laughed.
"I guess I'll have to make an honest woman, out of you, and marry you, if
we're going to go driving into the West together."
"Hey, man, I gotta go...I got a lot of packin' and a lot of stuff to do
before Tuesday."
"Will you come by again, later tonight...and we can continue where we left
off?", I asked.
"Later, dude, but I'll be here...".
He dressed...put on his Stetson, went out the door. Sunday, Monday, and
Tuesday, came and went. He never showed up again. Years later, I would swear
I had seen him in crowd scenes in "Silverado".
Nonetheless, I was $160.00 poorer, but my car was fixed and once again, I
was headed toward the Golden Gate State.
My car troubles weren't over. When I reached the desert at Indio, Calif.
the thermometer read 109 degrees and that damned radiator started
overheating again. I had just past a service stationed signalling, "Last gas
stop for 55 miles." I was determined to make it to the outskirts of L.A., so
I turned the heater on in my Mustang to lower its temperature. I'm sure it
must have been 125 degrees inside.
I made it though. I had reached La La Land.
Abby, the owner of the Surf, where I had played, gave an address of her
best friend who lived in LaMirada. For fear of being sued, I will use
pseudonames during this next segment. Abby's friend had a son, whom they had
raised together. The son was good-looking and had been "discovered" and was
now a teenage heartthrob...my own included. Abby said she would call "Marie"
and see if I could stay with her for a few days. "John" was probably on
location somewhere and I could use his bedroom.
I arrived and "Marie" and "John"'s house, knocked on the door, and "Marie"
looked like Abby's long last sister. Red-hair, plump, and even had the big
"laugh". "Marie" gave me a big hug and welcomed me as if I were her prodigal
son. She put one of my suitcases in "John"'s room and offered me a drink..
"Just a Pepsi or a Coke, if you have it..."
We talked at lenght about Abby and their early "starving" years they had
lived together, after "John"'s father had split with an Avon lady, when
"John" was only four years old. I made a comic monologue of my experiences
with the car on the trip, leaving out "Skip", of course.
"Marie" asked if I had seen any of "John"'s movies.
"All of them...I'm a big fan of his."
"What's your favorite?"
"It was...(oops I almost mentioned the title)..,, the one where he was in
college and got the rich girl pregnant."
"That is my favorite too, That one made him a star."
"Is he out of town shooting another picture, now?"
"No, he and a friend, went surfing. They'll be back around six".
Gulp. I would get to meet him, one of those twenty foot guys that always
gave me a hardon as I watched him on the screen. Maybe he wouldn't look that
good in person and I could control my "physical" emotions.
It was 6:15 before "John" arrived with his friend. His friend is another
person I can't name, so I will call him "Sammy". I had seen him and jerked
off to him in about 10 "beach party" movies. He was a bigger star than
"John". It was nice to know that the stars socialized with each
other...surfing and all...
"Marie" said, "John, this is Mark, Abby's young friend from Georgia."
"Glad to meet you, Mark...How is Aunt Abby?...Oh Mark, this is my best
friend, 'Sammy'." They stuck out there hands simultaneously to shake mine. I
thought I had grabbed an electric eel, as the waves ran through my body.
"Sammy and I are going to go catch a shower. We'll see you at dinner." They
left to go into the bathroom through his bedroom. I was beginning to think I
WON'T GO TO SLEEP THIS NIGHT. There's just too much excitement under this
roof. I was in L.A. about to have dinner with two of Hollywood's biggest
stars.
"Marie" had not forgotten her southern heretage as she prepared a feast of
fried okra, breaded squash, boiled corn, fresh lima beans and a pan of hot
corn bread, with sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, scallions, and long green hot
peppers. This is what they eat in California?? I had expected chili and hot
tamales. The meal was delicious, I'm sure, but I couldn't eat, digest my
food and watch the "star", at the same time.
"You're a good looking guy, Mark. How old are you?", "John" asked.
"Almost 20."
"Ever think about taking a screen test and getting into the movies?"
"No...I love movies..I've done several plays, but I think I like "live"
theatre, best."
"Too bad...Hollywood's loss." I thought my chest would burst with pride.
"Hey, you wanna watch a movie? I invited "Sammy" over to see a 16mm rough
cut of a film I just finished in Rome."
"I'd love it."
"Marie", who was on her third tumbler of gin and tonic, said, "I'm seen it
and I'm going to bed, You boys can have the house to yourselves."
We said our goodnights, vowing to see each other over sausage, gravy and
home-made biscuits in the morning.
"John" pulled a silver screen down like a window xhade covering one
complete wall and loaded up the projector. He turned off the lights and
flipped on the switch, before sitting on the left cushion on the brocaded
sofa. "Sammy" was on the right cushion.
"Here, Mark, come sit between us." Was this heaven or what?? The big "WB"
lunged forward on the screen before announcing the title of the film. It
might have been a "roughcut" but the music had already been added. I almost
yelled when I heard the first eight bars. It was a score by Max Steiner. Did
he write the soundtracks to all of "John"'s films the way George Duning and
Morris Stoloff wrote for Kim Novak? Or was this just another unexplained
coincidence? Who cares? I loved it!!
The female lead was a beauty I had seen in movie magazines, coupled with
"John" spreading rumors of their impending "engagement". I wondered where
she was? As the picture tarried on, the three of us sat there, laughing,
moaning, talking to the screen during the love scene. I would never have
been this rude to a picture in a movie house, but I guess "John" had the
right to make fun of his own picture.
When it was over and he had "gotten the girl", he asked, "Well, Mr, Critic,
what did you think?...Do I have another hit??"
I must've sounded like a kid at the circus when I replied, "Wow, that was
so hot. YOU were so hot!"
"What about my co-star? Didn't you think SHE was hot, too?"
"Yeah, but not like you." Why hadn't I just gone to "Marie"'s dresser and
got a whole handful of "hairpins" if I were going to drop them like them
that freely?
"So you think, I'm hot, do you?"
"Well...yeah..."
"You're not the only one..."Sammy" thinks I'm hot, too...Do you think that
"Sammy"'s hot?"
"Yeah, especially in that movie with Pat Boone...In case you're gonna
ask,,,Yes, I think Pat Boone is hot, too".
The two of them laughed...I joined in, when I was more relaxed.
"So you think that 'Sammy' and I are hot. "Sammy' thinks I am hot. I think
'Sammy' is hot which leads us to you."
I blushed.
"I think Mark's hot, 'Sammy'. Do you think he's hot?"
"Hot as a firecracker.". 'Sammy' responded.
"Well," 'John' continued, "if we're all so fucking hot, why are wer sitting
in the den with all these fucking clothes on? Let's go into the bedroom and
cool down."
Slowly we rose, and arms locked we headed toward "John"'s room. When we got
to the foot of the bed, on queue, they turned to face me, one of them at
each side. They began to undress me button by button by zipper by shoe by
shoe by sock by sock by elastic brief band, until I stood there like Joan of
Arc at the Inquisition. They stepped back away from me and disrobed their
duds in a pile. Again they were both on each of my sides, four hands. roving
and roaming up and down my entire torso.
"Sammy" was the first to reach my genitals, as I began to respond in my
automatic fashion...a huge, unstoppable erection.
"God, 'John', look at the size of that thing!!"
"I'm looking...I'm looking..."."John replied."
And as if, in a choreographed pas de deux, they both sank to their knees
and began an oral battle, seeing who could be the first to fully engulf my
seven and one-half inches. They fought gallantly with their tongues, licking
up one side and down of my shaft. "John" won the tug and was the first to
slide me into his mouth. "Sammy" worked on my ball sac and beneath finally
reaching my love hole with a probe. "John licked his way up my body
stopping at my navel and each nipple, while "Sammy" was ascending my back at
the same speed. When they reach ed my shoulder, they leaned their heads
toward each other's and began kissing. Their saliva was hitting my clavical
and running down my right scapula. "John" used his right hand to turn my
head to involve me in a their kiss...all three mouths and tongues touching,
tasting, searching...
If they wanted me to partake of this activity, I thought I would initiate a
few movements of my own, as I dropped to my knees and took their cocks, one
in each of my hands, and brought them to my mouth. This was something new
for me, but just as so long ago when I thought I had invented the 69
position with Lance, I was confident that this, too would work. I could suck
two dicks at once. I thought "right". I could.,,and I did. They began to
fuck my mouth together, as they continued kissing and hand exploring. I
watched as they pumped me...two large dicks, one surrounded with a satiny
blonde patch and the other, a curly black thicket.
After a few minutes of this ballet, they made me rise and this time it was
"Sammy"'s turn to go down on my whild "John" explored my backside. I hate to
admit it, but "Sammy" was a better cocksucker, than my matinee idol. That's
OK..."John" wanted to show me he had other talents, as he began to insert
those hard seven inches into my awaiting asshole. This must've been a
familiar routine for the both of them because. "John" knew just when to
fuck and "Sammy" coincided his sucking.
This is ONE night I could never relate to anyone. Who the fuck would
believe it. I had a reputation back home for lying..."acting" as I called
it...and this "truth" would surmount any like I had ever told. Go figure. I
didn't feel any guilt about Rich. He would never know any of this. Who the
fuck would ever know? I certainly wasn't going to tell. "Hey Mom, Guess what
I did tonight?"...THAT would be a conversation to remember.
After I had fed "Sammy" his dessert and "John" had made a deposit in my
bank, it was time for them to proceed in the usual lovemaking, as if I
weren't there, at all. They jumped onto "John"'s bed, kissing, sucking,
licking, cumming...all over the sheets...and each other...they reached up
and pulled me down to join them. It was time for Round Two, or my second
lesson in the art of three-way sex. I never knew who was doing whom, it was
a turmoil of confusion, each of us grabbing an organ or a hole, whichever
was most handy. I hoped someone was keeping score. I think I came about six
times, "John", at least eight, and "Sammy" the wild Italian, came and came
and came. It must have been 4:00 AM before we all dropped in a heap of
exhaustion and went to sleep, six arms and legs, all entangled, three cocks,
wilted, and three rectums filled to the top rims of their tanks.
When I awoke, around 11:00 AM, they were both gone...God knows where. I
dress in a pair of cutoffs and a t-shirt and went into the kitchen, finding
"Marie" having a bloody Mary.
"Ready for some biscuits?"
"Sure...I was lying in bed, just now, thinking about biscuits." I told her.
"Did you boys have a nice time, watching the movie."
"Yeah, it was so great, watching the movie and being able to see the "star"
so up close."
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I didn't see "Sammy" in person, again, although I still see him in his old
films and get a glow (and a hardon) to this day.
The rest of the week I spent at their house. "John" and I read scripts and
he taught me how to "audition". The nights were spent in his room...having
sex...as I had so oftened fantasized alone...it was all coming true with my
"heartthrob".
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It was time to take a Valium and face the 75 mile L.A. freeway and head
north to continue my plight to Monterey. I should have taken a Librium AND a
Valium...These guys driving on this freeway were professional killers in
their autos and they were ALL out to get you. It was the longest 75 miles I
ever drove in my life. I would look in my rear view mirror and see a bus
baring down on my tail and before I knew it, my speedometer was on 115 miles
per hour.
When I reached A1A to drive up the Pacific Coast, I turned on my radio to
hear Percy Faith's recording of "Theme from A Summer Place". Wasn't this a
Max Steiner movie composition. I smiled, felt a warm glow inside and drove
north.
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It had been years, since I had seen my uncle, Andy...when he had made his
escape from "hell" and joined the Army. I had only know him as teenager and
he had known me as that little boy that Doug beat every Sunday.
Andy had grown up. His frail frame had filled out. He was tall, now,
muscular, beautiful combed-back brunette hair, and deep green eyes. God, the
Army had made him handsome. I felt I didn't know him well enough to give him
a hug, and besides, his being "military", a handshake would suffice.
When I drove into his driveway, he, his wife, Millie, and little
son, Donnie, were standing at the door.
"Mark?"
"Andy?"
"I wouldn't have known you. You're all grown up. The last time I saw you,
you weren't even shaving."
"I wouldn't have known you either...I mean...you look great."
"Come on in, I want you to get to know your new "aunt" and cousin."
The things Andy had missed in growing up were all in the past. His son
would grow up in a loving secure environment, one that neither, Andy, nor I
had ever known.
I didn't know how long I was going to stay since Rich wasn't due to be
discharged until February. It was now, late June, so there was time to make
decisions later.
I drove down to Pebble Beach, went to see movies in Carmel, where I lost my
car, one night, because all the buildings looked alike and I had passed it
threw times, not knowing I was on the same street. I loved Big Sur and the
clifts and breakers looking down on the Pacific. I thought I had died and
gone to heaven. This was the most beautiful place on earth.
After I had been there, two weeks, I learned from Andy, that a friend of
his, who owned a bar was looking for a piano player. Guess who? Yep, I was
hired to work six nights a week from 9 to 11 PM...fifty bucks a night, plus
tips. There MUST be a God.
One night, on Monday, my only night off, I stayed home with Andy to watch a
baseball game. Millie had gone to a shower at one of the other soldier's
wife's, and little Donnie was already tucked into bed. Andy came in the
living room with two beers and handed one to me. "No thanks, I don't
drink...gotta a Pepsi or a Coke."
"Why don't you drink?"
In all the years, Andy and I had never "talked"..."talked about
anything...we were strangers...we didn't even know each other. I began
telling the story of my home life, after he had left "our" home...about Doug
and the "beatings" and about my mother, his sister, and her nightly
drinking, and at latest report, I had even heard that she and Lance' father
were having an affair, and Lance's mother had found out and all hell had
broken loose....
As I talked, Andy was drawn in to the narrative and turned off the TV to
take all this in...what he had missed, in his flight. At times he would
frown and at others, his eyes would fill with tears. as I talked
incessantly...I didn't know how far to go...should I tell him about my
"other" side...about Lance...about Jeff...about Rich's and my plans for the
Spring. He was a military man and he might not understand and throw his
"queer" nephew out on his ass. Oh what the hell? I had gone THIS far...and
no one in my family knew the REAL me. I would take my chance on Andy.
I watched the expression on his face change to "concerned" as I began my
pubescent exploits. I had to go on...to finish...I had gone THIS far...it
was too late to pause and erase now...so I opened up and told EVERYTHING to
Andy...ending with..."so I slapped her and stormed out the door and drove to
California."
He sat there staring in a daze for a long time, letting everything I had
said, sink in...what was truth, what was illusion, what he believed, and
what he chose NOT to believe....before he decided to speak to me.
"My God, little guy, you've been through hell...and I didn't know. I guess
there's not much I could have done or changed...If I had known, I could have
invited you out here, sooner...Mark, I am so sorry...Come here." he beckoned
motioning for me to come over to the couch,
I went over to sit beside him and he drew me to his chest. I began to cry,
burrowing my face into his shoulder. With his free hand he was stoking the
hair on the back of my head and even kissed me on the side of the forehead.
This was the first physical love I had ever felt from any member of my
family, even if he were a stranger to me...I wanted to be held, closer and
tighter. I grabbed his shoulder to increase the intensity of the hug. Andy
was giving me all the love I had missed, growing up. the love I always
wanted a father to give me, and yet, by proxy, I was giving the same thing
back to him. No one in our family had ever "loved" him, either. I wanted all
that he was willing to give me, and in like, manner, I would return in kind.
His body stiffened as I went for his lips to kiss him. I wanted to...I HAD
to...Damn those fucking torpedoes...it was time...to make up for those lost
moments from the past. I didn't try to tongue kiss him, I just pressed my
lips as firmly as I could against his. My hands were clutching his biceps
and running up and down the length of his arms...Andy was trying to retreat
and get away from my attack as he tried to stand up. In an effort to stop
him, I grabbed for his thigh and missed and grabbed him firmly in the
crotch. Andy had a hardon. I was embarrassed to discover it, but he, more
than I.
"Stop, Mark.", he commanded.
I had gone too far to stop now. If he were going to extracize me, I might
as well give him good reason. I would let go of my grip. His penis was
growing by the second.
"Please, stop," somewhat toned down."Mark, please don't."
"Andy, I need this, humor me, just this once, will you?"
"I can't...You shouldn't."
"I want to...and I think you want me to."
At this point he stopped resisting and just stood there, defeated in
battle. I unzipped his khakis and pulled out his long eager organ.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Just stand there and let me do what I want to do."
His body shimmered when I put his cock in my mouth. This would be his
first, last, and only time to ever have sex with a man, so I would use all
my expertise and make it perfect. I, also, wanted him to know why I had
chosen men over women and to know the joy of why a man knew more about
pleasing another man, than a woman could ever know. I had adopted the
official gay credo. That is the way we all felt.
After two or three minutes, experiencing my finest display of cocksucking,
he relaxed and began to enjoy it, as all straight men, do. He was actually
beginning to participate by fucking my mouth. He hae even started chanting.
"Oh, oh, oh," with each thrust...each "Oh", becoming louder.,,That's
probably the reason we didn't hear Millie when she drove up, came in the
house, entered the room and caught her husband being sucked off by his newly
discovered nephew.
His "OH's" were drowned out by her yelling, "What the fuck is going on? My
husband, a faggot?...being sucked by his queer nephew??
Mark, get the hell out of my house...get your fucking clothes, and get the
fucking hell out of here....Andy! We need to talk!"
I scrambled as fast as I could, trying to retrieve all my belongings. It
must have been only five minutes before I was in my car heading...where?? By
the time the word of this fiasco reached Georgia, I could never return home.
I had to get out of Monterey AND California...North,,,East...Northeast...New
York??...Maybe, could this car make it that far? Could I drive that far,
without having a nervous breakdown?? I drove to Vegas. checked in the
Sands...$10.00 a night? Were they kidding? I went to the dining room to eat.
I had lobster and steak AND the Nat King Cole Show, and my check totalled
$6.50. I found out, then, that the cheapest vacation one could take would
be in Las Vegas, IF you didn't gamble and only wanted to eat and see the
floorshows.
I drove down the street and a signed said, "We'll give you TOP dollar for
YOUR car." I drove in. I guess this is where you went to hock you limousine
after you had lost your shirt. I couldn't wait to sign the papers over to
the dealer, for fear he would change his mind when he offered me $1,000.00
for my Mustang. Maybe he had seen I had had new "rocker arms" installed. The
next day I took a cab to the airport and bought a ticket for my first plane
ride...a one-way ticket to New York City.
At "John"'s house I had read ads for several drama schools in New York. I
had worked on several audition pieces with "John" and thought this might be
fun...I would finally see if I could "lie" well enough to get paid for it.
To me, that's all acting was..."lying", pretending and believing you are,
what you aren't.
The third place I auditioned was a very astute school, very difficult to be
admitted to, that I will just call "The Academy", another pseudoname, I'll
use to warrant off another potential lawsuit.
I had practiced a dramatic and a comedic monologue in preparation. There
were five directors sitting in the studio when I auditioned. Fortunately
they laughed at the funny one and not the serious piece. I thought I had
done quite well, considering....
When I finished, they put their heads in a huddled and talked in low voice
and whispers, and finally said, "Stop by the office on your way out and pay
the secretary, the deposit on your tuition. I had MADE it. I went downstairs
to find out the amount I needed and the secretary asked, "Do you mind if I
ask what pieces you used to audition with?"
"No, for drama, I did King Arthur's 'Proposition Speech' from 'Camelot',
and for comedy, Cornelius' monologue about adventure from, "The Matchmaker".
"I just wondered." she said, "that board of judges has turned down over 80
applicants, this week, and you're the third to get accepted."
Now I was on Cloud Nine again. I found out the costs for tuition, figured
in the cost of rent, food, etc...how much cash I had left. I needed about
five hundred dollars, more to satisfy my immediate needs until I found
job...but just where would I get that kind of money. I had planned to enroll
for the first semester which would end in January, just in time for Rich's
February arrival...and then the two of us would romp in Europe before coming
home for him to enter Seminary. Wherever he chose to go, I could always find
a job playing in a club or bar to support us until he got his first parish.
The lightbulb came on...Jeff's parents. They have loved and accepted me.
They had plenty of money and would float me a loan. I raced to the phone
booth on 45th and Broadway and called. Jeff's mother sounded pleased to hear
from me. I was excited to tell her about New York, how well the audition had
gone, how I had been accepted at the "Academy". I was talking a mile a
minute but knew that I had to show an intonation of desperation in my really
needing them money.
"You see, I've got this chance to become an actor. In the Spring, I may
decide to go back to college and go into the priesthood like Rich. At this
point I just can't come to a decision..."
"Mark, I think the decision has been made for you...haven't you heard?"
"Heard what?"
"Mark, I'm afraid I have some rather bad news for you,..Mark...we got word
yesterday that Rich was killed in a helicopter accident, last week,,,"
"When????..."
"September 29th, one year to the day that Jeff was killed...I am so sorry
to tell you...
There was not one word in my head or mouth to say. I was stunned. My world
had just come to an end...again.
"Mark, if you need money for tuition, let me pay it, It's the least I could
do, in memory of Jeff."
I didn't even bother to hang up the phone...I left the receiver
fall...dangling... and I slowly began walking down 45th toward 8th Avenue.
It was Wednesday, matinee day. and 44th, 45th, 46th streets and Schubert
Alley were filled with people, To this day, I don't know what led me to the
Schubert Theatre. I saw a huge sign made up of letters spelling, "Anthony
Newley in Stop the World I Want To Get Off". I went to the box office and
said, "One, please".
"All we have is standing room."
"I'll take it...how much>"
"Three dollars".
I handed her three bills and went inside, was handed a Playbill and was
shown where to "stand".
The overture started, playing a few themes I was familiar with, including,
"What Kind of Fool Am I?"...Boy, there was a profound message.
Then the the theatre went dark and a single pin spot picked up Anthony
Newley, dressed as a clown. Slowly through mime and song the seven stages of
man began to unfold. Midway through the first act, Tony started singing,
"Just once in a lifetime, a man knows a moment, one wonderful moment, when
fate takes his hand...and THIS is my moment ....". It was as if I were in
the old Baptist church and they were singing the "invitation" hymn at the
end of the service, inviting the "lost" to come forth and be saved. I
walked down the aisle of the Schubert Theatre toward the stage and let Tony
sing the song, just to me. Years later, when I got to know him I would ask
him if he remembered a kid coming down the aisle to disrupt his show. He
said "Yes", but I doubt if he remembered me. I NEVER forgot it. The message
of that song became an inspiration to me for years to come.
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(to be continued in "that-was-then-11" NEW YORK!